Hard To Handle (Rawhide)

by Desiree Holt

  Table of Contents

  Hard To Handle

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Chapter One

  Thank You

  Hard To Handle

  by

  Desiree Holt

  Book 5 of the Rawhide series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Hard To Handle

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Desiree Holt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, May 2013

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-925-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my wonderful beta reader Margie Hager, to my brainstorming partner Cerise Deland, and to Master Mike who teaches me about all things BDSM.

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Desiree Holt

  AND HER BOOKS

  EIGHT SECOND RIDE

  “I highly recommend Eight Second Ride for anyone that is looking for a good, sexy story about how a cowboy rode into town and swept the sheriff right off of her feet.”

  ~4 Hearts The Romance Studio

  SLAPPING LEATHER

  “Slapping Leather teases and engages reader’s hearts and minds with its claiming, raw and untamed desires between two lovers meant for each other.”

  ~4 Hearts The Romance Studio

  BITE THE BULLET

  “In Bite the Bullet the author does an excellent job of detailing the rising heat that develops as they work their way through the pitfalls of any new relationship as well as conquer the baggage left over by past experiences.”

  ~Night Owl Reviews

  Chapter One

  “Quit it, Hank.”

  Bailey French brushed at the tail swishing lazily at her. Straightening up to unkink her back, she swiped her forearm across her brow to wipe away some of the sweat. Hank—who the hell named a horse Hank, anyway?—was cross-tied in the barn so she could clean his hooves. But the damn horse thought it was funny to keep swishing his tail against her eyes and pushing his hoof out of her grip. She might not mind so much if the temperature hadn’t climbed to ninety-eight degrees without even a hint of a breeze to lessen it. A typical Texas summer day.

  “I knew you were pretty antisocial,” a voice with a soft drawl said behind her, “but I didn’t think you’d taken to talking to horses.”

  She turned and looked at Hondo LaBar standing just inside the barn, hands shoved in his pockets, one leg propped up on the bench against the wall.

  Damn. Does the man take pleasure in sneaking up on me?

  Bailey tamped down the flash of heat that always raced through her whenever he was near. It had been like that since the day she came to work at the Lucky L. Hondo LaBar was just too damn sexy for his own good. He seemed to move in an atmosphere thickened with testosterone, electricity zapping the air around him. He made her internal sensors go insane with hunger. What in hell was it about him that made her so crazy just being around him? A craziness that increased the more time passed. Hadn’t she learned her lesson after all?

  Worn jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows outlined the typically lean, muscled body of a seasoned wrangler. His face was too rough to be called handsome but it had a masculine beauty that shouted pure sex. Thick brown hair hung just below his familiar Stetson to the edge of his collar and his ocean blue eyes danced with humor.

  Like her, Hondo was one of the wranglers at The Lucky L Cutting Horse Ranch, already in place when she hired on a year ago. From the first time she saw him in action she admired the ease with which he handled the horses, whether they were boarders-in-training or those still waiting to be schooled. Watching his muscles flex and his hands work the reins mesmerized her as if she were a horny teenager.

  A lot of time had passed since she was around a man with such rampant sexuality. Images she’d been locking away with determination always seemed to batter at the door to get loose whenever Hondo was within fifty feet of her. Whatever chemistry was erupting between them made her yearn for things she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Experiences that, with Hondo—

  Don’t you dare, Bailey Raeanne French. The men around here are off limits. Permanently. And for more than one very good reason.

  Things had gotten a lot busier at the ranch during the past year. Liz and Alex Wright decided to add a small herd of cattle to the cutting horse breeding stock, the boarding and training. Probably why they’d had a job available at exactly the moment she needed one.

  Wranglers were responsible for the care and feeding of the stock, both horses and cattle, and for working with the cutting horse trainers. A never-ending list of chores kept them busy from sunup to sundown. Bailey had plunged right in, using the skills she’d worked her tail off to acquire. Choosing a job in a male-dominated profession meant always having to work harder, better, smarter, and definitely not giving out any vibes that she might be sexually available. What she did was hard work, and she constantly had the sense of needing to prove herself. Hiring on at the Lucky L was a big break for her. The owner, Liz Wright, had faced a lot of the same prejudices so the women really connected.

  For the most part, she worked well with the other wranglers. But that was because she made herself see them all as sexless humans, muscle and sinew built for a hardass job. And because she never interacted with any of them personally except in the most casual way.

  Not so with Hondo LaBar. Even now, dirty and sweaty as she was and engrossed in a delicate chore, just being near him made every one of her pulse points throb. If she didn’t have Hank’s foot steadied between her legs she’d be squeezing her thighs together to still the ache building there.

  Hadn’t she learned by now that her ability to choose was seriously flawed?

  “I didn’t realize that was a difficult question.” His voice, with the perfection of aged whiskey, held a tinge of humor.

  “What?” She tightened her fingers around Hank’s hoof. “Sorry. Did you say something? Paying attention here, you know.”

  He laughed, a deep-throated sound that made her nerves snap and her breasts ache.

  “Actually, I wondered about Hank getting more conversation from you than any of the rest of us.”

  Bailey waited until she’d finished cleaning the one hoof and released it before she answered. Then she looked at him with what she hoped was a complete lack of expression.

  “Actually, Hank and I have something special going here. We understand each other.”

  “You know, I’ve been wondering something.” Hondo slid his foot from the bench and took a step closer. “How come you never go into town with us on the weekends? A cold beer really washes away the dust after a hard week. Especially in this heat.”

  Bailey shrugged
then bent to lift Hank’s other rear hoof.

  “I’m not much of one for hanging out in bars.” Not one at all, as a matter of fact. “I do appreciate y’all asking me, though.”

  The last thing she needed was loosening up with a bunch of horny cowboys. She kept a very tight lid on her sexual preferences, so tight she hadn’t even lifted that lid in a very long time. Some might see her desires as a weakness and scorn her for it. Others might as easily take advantage. She’d discovered that to earn and keep the respect she needed on her job, she could never blur the line between social and work.

  Hondo moved a couple more steps closer, careful to keep away from Hank’s wayward hooves.

  “Sure I can’t talk you into it? Pizza’s tonight’s special.” She could hear the coaxing smile in his voice. “Might actually be fun.”

  She was silent as she finished with the other hoof although acutely aware of him standing barely more than a foot away. Finished, she put her tools in the wooden carrier she used and straightened up.

  “It’s very nice of you to ask, Hondo.” She brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Maybe some other time.”

  “That’s what you always say.” He followed her as she untied Hank and led him to his stall. “You have something against socializing?”

  Yes. But I can’t tell you what it is.

  Poor judgment had landed her in a bad situation. She’d fled both the man and her job at a ranch outside Dallas. Luck and circumstance had turned her onto the opening at the Lucky L. She didn’t plan to do anything to screw it up.

  “Bailey?” Hondo’s voice jerked her back to the present. “It’s not much of a life if you spend it working all day then hole up in that little cabin you’re using at night.”

  Could the man not take a hint? She needed to take care of this before it became a full-blown scene.

  “Actually, I’m going into San Antonio tonight to see a friend.” She stowed her carrier in the tack room and ran through a mental checklist of what still had to be done before the end of the day.

  “Yeah?” He blocked her exit at the open door. “What kind of a friend would that be?”

  Bailey wanted to suck in a deep breath and inhale his essence throughout her body. The mixture of man, hay, horses, and leather was an incredible aphrodisiac. Especially the leather. Instead, she slid past him out into the main aisle.

  “An old friend. And right now I have things to do if I want to leave on time.”

  Of course, now she had to think up some place to go and hope this persistent man didn’t follow her.

  He walked with her in silence for a moment. “Well, maybe on the weekend. There’s a guitar player on Friday and Saturday nights. Music’s pretty good.”

  Bailey stopped and turned to look at him. She needed to nip this in the bud right now.

  “Hondo, listen. You’re a really great guy, and I like being your friend. But hanging out with you guys wouldn’t be good for my situation. Pretty soon one of you would get the wrong idea, we’d have a problem and I’d have to leave.” She sighed. “And I like my job.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You think the guys would disrespect you if you hung out with us and had a beer now and then?”

  She shrugged and started walking again. “It’s a chance I can’t take. I worked too hard to get where I am.”

  “Everyone has to let their hair down sometime,” he insisted. “All work and no play makes for a very dull life.”

  “Maybe.” She stopped at the gate to the corral. “But if I play, it certainly wouldn’t be smart to do it here.”

  His fingers closed lightly over her upper arm. “Are you saying you have someplace you go to play?”

  Damn. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

  “I’m not saying anything. Think what you want. Anyway, I have to get Mick Jagger out of the corral right now.”

  Hondo grinned. “People sure give weird names to their horses.” He moved his hand from her arm. “Just think about what I said, though, okay? Just a drink now and then?”

  “I’ll think about it. Now, I’d better get back to work before I don’t have a job to worry about.”

  But she stood there a moment, watching him walk away with his familiar loose-hipped gait. Images floated unbidden in her brain, images of herself bound hand and foot on a padded table and Hondo standing beside her, fastening clamps to her nipples. Images of him trailing the thin strap of a single-tail whip over her body. Or drumming the soft flesh of her breasts and stomach with fire wands, just enough to heat but never burn. Or—

  Stop!

  Lord. She shook her head and looked around to make sure no one was watching her. The pulse in her cunt was throbbing so hard it pulsed through her entire body. She could never, ever, let any of these men know the kind of extreme BDSM she was into. The edge play that turned her on. She had just denied herself any play at all for so long, her body was hungry for it and her self-control was starting to fray.

  Finding a Dom who knew the proper etiquette and rules for edge play was hard. Some she’d met were so over the top she’d had to nearly shout her safeword to get them to stop. Others said they were into it but couldn’t take it as far as she wanted. Or needed. She’d finally had to admit to herself that taking it to the edge was what really turned her on and she longed to find a Dom she could put her complete trust in who knew how to give her pleasure while receiving equal pleasure from her responses. Maybe she’d email one of the subs she still checked in with to see if someone could recommend a club not too far away she could try out.

  Deliberately pushing everything from her mind, she walked into the corral and whistled for Mick Jagger.

  “Come on, hot stuff,” she called out. “Time to get your manicure.”

  But as the horse trotted obediently toward her, she couldn’t help wondering just once more if Hondo LaBar was into BDSM, and what extreme edge play, the kind she craved with every cell in her body, would be like with him.

  ****

  Hondo headed back toward the barn and tack room where work awaited him, but he stopped just at the entrance and turned to watch Bailey. Damn, that woman just did it to him. In spades. He could hardly keep his dick from pushing its way through his fly whenever he saw her. And the ache in his balls? He didn’t even like to acknowledge it.

  She was nothing like the women he’d been with. His type, if he had one, was tall and willowy, graceful, sometimes almost ethereal. And his taste usually ran to blondes. Yet, here was Bailey French, barely five-foot-four, hair like black silk, and a compact body that he was pretty sure was as well-muscled as his was. After all, wrangling horses took a lot of strength, and Bailey never asked for concessions on the job.

  But he fantasized too often about the nice round breasts pushing against her T-shirts, and the appealing ass cupped so lovingly by her jeans. He imagined those strong thighs wrapped around him as he plunged into her tight little body, his hands gripping the midnight fall of hair.

  Even more than that, he’d love to see her stripped naked, in restraints as blue flames from the fire wand kissed her body before he whisked them out. Images came to him unbidden of her on her knees in front of him, hands behind her back, his cock in her mouth. Or on her hands and knees or bent over a table while he paddled her ass. Or maybe stretched out face down on a St. Andrew’s Cross while he used the single-tail whip on her. Or beat a steady tattoo on her body with fire batons. Or even—

  Cut it out!

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he kept this up, he’d come in his jeans like some schoolboy. Maybe embarrass himself in front of some of the other wranglers.

  In the two years he’d been at the Lucky L, he’d kept his sexual preferences to himself. He’d learned the hard way that people unfamiliar with BDSM had a warped view of it that carried over to their opinion of him. Especially for someone like him, a hard-core Dom whose personal preference was edgeplay. He couldn’t imagine anyone in this conservative ranching community deep in the Texas Hill Country kn
owing anything about it, much less participating in it. So he’d had a long dry spell as far as sex was concerned, broken only by brief trips out of town to the club where he used to play.

  Maybe that was why Bailey looked so good to him.

  Yeah, that had to be it.

  He sure couldn’t see her being a submissive to any man, much less him, although he’d discovered over time that a submissive woman often was driven in her career. Strong. Focused. But in the bedroom or the privacy of a dungeon, she needed the surrender. Needed to give up all that control to someone.

  He watched through the tack room door as she brought Mick Jagger into the barn and cross-tied him so she could clean his hooves. Every time she bent over, he wanted to yank down her jeans and lick that sweet ass.

  Cut it out!

  “Hey, Bailey.”

  Hondo frowned as he watched Dan Chavez, another of the wranglers, walk into the barn and over to where Bailey was working. What did that sex hound want with her?

  He’d better not be hitting on her.

  Hondo snorted. Like it was his business, or he could even do anything about it. Still, he gritted his teeth as he heard her answer him.

  “Hey, Dan. You finished for the day?”

  “Just about. Got one more thing to do in the breeding barn.” Hondo watched the man shove his hands into his front pockets and tilt his head. “Say, I know it’s not the weekend, but a couple of us are going into town for a little while tonight. It’s been so damn hot we worked up a beer thirst. Thought maybe, since it was the middle of the week and we’d be back early, you might like to join us this time.”

  Hondo clenched his jaw as he waited for her to give her answer. She finished the one hoof, lowered it back to the floor and straightened, massaging her lower back.

  I’d like to do the massaging for her.

  Holy shit. He was really getting in a bad way.